the title of this post is at the end.

one.

for some reason, i spent a good chunk of yesterday taking those "psychological" quizzes. you know the ones i'm talking about. answer thirty questions, we'll tell you how messed up you are. i tried to coerce my friend into doing them with me and she said, "....why?" i don't know. what else is there to do on a saturday? be normal? bit late for that. so i took these quizzes. and i kept getting the same five disorders. schizotypal, borderline, histrionic, narcissistic and avoidant. (borderline between what and what? i'm already insane.) but my favorite quiz was cattell's sixteen factor quiz. it's nice to have adjectives every once in a while. maybe i can finally define myself.

instinctive, unstable. irritable, moody. modest, docile. nontraditional, rebellious. uninhibited, bold. touchy, soft. supportive, comforting. wary, suspicious. strange, imaginative. private, quiet. fearful, self doubting. curious, exploratory. (just wait until the guys hear about that one.) loner. messy. cool.

as far as maslow's concerned, i've got physiological and safety needs down. it's everything else that i need to work on.

pardon me for one second.

dear mom, thank you for turning me into the radioactive pile of shit i am today. shut up now, so i can finish blogging in peace. please and thank you.

two.

i love swings. and bicycles. i think i might get my bike fixed. it's super old. i used to ride it all the time until the tires suddenly stopped inflating. then i got a unicycle. but my neighborhood isn't accepting of unicyclists, and i'm tired of being called a clown for being different. i wish i could go to the park and get on the swings, but i'm tired of doing things in my area. there's the risk of running into people i used to know and wondering if they notice that i'm not as tiny as i once was.

i mean, of course they do. i've only lived here for a decade of my life.

this one girl from my junior high school works at the grocery store. we used to do gymnastics together. the first time i realized it was her, i considered saying hi. so i went down her row. she checked my items. then i left.

three.

volunteering at a food pantry today, like i do almost every sunday. there's this delightful homeless man named mario that i met. he's a former olympic gold medalist. (that's not depressing at all, right?) anyway, if you don't talk to homeless people, you should start doing it. he's a regular wellspring of information.

"hey, you know that similac no one's been taking the past few weeks? i take that. i had a whole carton of ice cream. and then i sat in the park, i drank it and whoosh, off to the bathroom. you use it. you'll see."

so this is what it's come to, hm? getting tips from hobos. wait, i'm not finished baring my soul yet. i tried it. call me the human guinea pig. but it works. yes, i drink large amounts of concentrated baby foodstuff. this is what it's come to. the good news is that you don't gain weight from it. maybe because you drink it and whoosh, off to the bathroom. that amused me. i'm sorry, i couldn't help it. (is that why babies need so many diaper changes? ew.) on the bright side, no more embarrassment about buying laxatives. if you buy similac instead, no one will suspect that you're a weight obsessed maniac. i mean, that's just not a normal conclusion. you'd never guess it.

so that's it.

my advice to you is to not take psychological quizzes (because they'll just force you to admit things you'd rather deny), go ride a bike (or get on the swings, whichever comes first), and buy similac. drink it-- in moderation, of course-- because you don't gain weight, it doesn't dehydrate you, and it has nutrients.

and then you open the window and say, "life is a meaningless descent into the void." then you jump, and on the way down you scream, "now i understand. i understand everything."


that was the title, but don't actually do that. i've just been watching too much daria. she reminds me of someone i know. i mean, she's a glasses wearing, fashion challenged, cynical teenager with biting sarcasm, an annoyingly gorgeous sister and parental units who are extremely out of touch but have rare golden moments where they actually act as parents.

something about that is familiar... i just can't put my finger on it.

honestly.